


An Oral Tradition

by banjjakbanjjak



Category: Carry On Series - Rainbow Rowell, Simon Snow & Related Fandoms
Genre: Blow Jobs, If You Squint - Freeform, M/M, Porn With Plot, Rugby
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-28
Updated: 2020-10-28
Packaged: 2021-03-08 22:00:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,909
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27253828
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/banjjakbanjjak/pseuds/banjjakbanjjak
Summary: When Baz Pitch came out in Eighth Year, the last thing he expected was Simon Snow to corner him, in their room, and ask him: Can you teach me to give a blow job.
Relationships: Tyrannus Basilton "Baz" Pitch/Simon Snow
Comments: 19
Kudos: 218





	An Oral Tradition

**Author's Note:**

> First attempt at not fading to black. 
> 
> Thank you [K](https://www.archiveofourown.org/users/xivz/pseuds/xivz) for being my beta!
> 
> Without further ado. Enjoy!

**BAZ**

Coming out was a _mistake_. 

I should have never said anything.

And it’s not for the reasons one would think. 

I’ve always known I’m queer. I just never felt like there was a need to make a whole song and dance about it. When Trixie and Keris came out together, the news took our year by storm. No one was particularly nasty about it, but it was a _circus_. It was all anyone could talk about for days—ranging from Keris’ netball teammates being very defensive of one of their own, to the other magickal creatures in school offering to beat up anyone that came for Trixie. 

Of course, nothing negative happened, because it wasn’t the queer part of the equation that made it gossip-worthy. It was the fact that it was gossip not related to the one and only Simon Snow. _Finally_ , something interesting happened at Watford that didn’t involve the prophesied hero and parts of the school being sealed away, cordoned off, or outright obliterated.

To say many things at Watford revolve around Simon Snow is an understatement. Unfortunately for me, _I’m_ one of those things. In fact, I can write a book on how to centre your universe around Simon Snow. 

I didn’t expect my coming out to wind up revolving around him too. 

See, most of his baseless (and preposterous) accusations about me being a vampire ended in Fifth Year, but he planted the seeds for suspicion, and I (idiotically) let it fester for three years. So when I manage to tackle someone hard enough that I shatter their shin bone, there’s more than a few raised eyebrows. I needed to do damage control, to distract people.

Which is why I came out six weeks into Eighth Year. 

Suddenly the conversation about the football incident was replaced with my coming out. My plotting was a success, but now I have to deal with a continuous stream of people saying things like— _“You’re really brave.”_ Or, _“You can still come change with us before and after matches. ”_

It’s annoying, but I’m grateful to those people. There was always the possibility that the boys would be cool with two _women_ being together, but a gay man may be a different story. 

What I’m not grateful for is the current situation I’ve found myself in.

Snow corners me in our room days after my coming out. He’s blushing, which makes his tawny skin a beautiful pink, and his ears are redder than that one time he spelled his pants on fire during Magickal Words. 

“To what do I owe this displeasure?” I snarl, willing myself not to get a stiffy. He’s so close, I can practically feel his breath on me. 

“I have a question.” 

I shove him, causing him to stumble backward slightly. The usual growl never comes, instead, Snow stares at the floor, hands in his pockets. I’ve seen this enough to know he’s struggling to find the right way to say something.

“Use your words, Snow, even if they’re the wrong ones.”

“Can you teach me how to give a blow job?”

The world stands still. 

I can’t believe my ears.

I narrow my eyes at him, attempting to look menacing and dismissive—but also to ensure this isn’t some apparition that’s managed to sneak in past the wards of Watford and Mummers House.

Snow swallows hard, he’s staring at me now. His chin is jut forward, it’s the face he usually makes when he’s trying to challenge me, but the confidence isn’t there. This is pure bravado.

_Interesting_.

“Come again, Snow?”

“You heard me.”

Snow’s rendered me speechless before, but this one truly takes the cake. 

I say the first thing that comes to mind. “If this is about your sex life with Wellbelove, I don’t want to be involved.”

“Agatha? What? No. We broke up.”

Now, this is confusing.

“You’ll be back together by dinner time, leave me out of this.” 

If I hadn’t just come back from the library, I’d storm out. Although, admittedly, I’m morbidly curious about this and a sick part of me very much doesn’t want to be left out of it.

“We won’t,” he says, probably the most assured he’s been this entire time. “I broke up with her. I—I don’t think I—well, I don’t know if Agatha is for me. Or...girls in general.”

There are many things I expected to happen when I came out; Simon Snow having a sexual identity crisis is very low on that list. (In my fantasies it’s the first thing, because I’m in love with him.) I also have no idea why Snow is confiding in _me_ of all people. 

“Why are you telling me this?” Feigning disinterest is a specialty of mine, but even I know this performance is weak.

“Well…you’re gay. Queer. You don’t like girls,” Snow says like it’s the most obvious thing. I raise my eyebrow at him, and he continues. “I … I just don’t want to meet someone down the line, at Watford or...or later and not know how to do anything.”

“Have you heard of the Internet, Snow?”

“We don’t get personal computers at care homes. Look, forget I said anything. I just thought you’d be the best person to go to.”

And now I feel bad. 

Snow doesn’t look upset or angry by it. To him, it’s just a statement of fact, of his life outside of Watford. Be it sympathy for his lot in life, or my own depraved desire to help Snow in this tiny way (whilst making the rest of his life as difficult as possible), I make a decision.

I give him a curt nod, and walk out of our room with my head held high.

**SIMON**

I don’t know what possesses me to ask _Baz_ —the single person who’s been out to get me from my first day at Watford—for help. He’s left the room, probably to spell the gargoyles to broadcast what I just said to him. I’d be worried, but I have a feeling that everyone’s tired of our shit by now and would just ignore it.

I flop onto my bed, dreading having to deal with this when word gets out. I close my eyes and try to make a list of people to do damage control with—The Mage, Agatha, everyone else, and then maybe Penny, if she even believed it.

I hear the door open and peek over to see Baz, with two bananas in his hand.

**BAZ**

Snow’s lying on his bed, his legs are spread and his feet are planted on the floor. I could simply just _show_ him (and live out one of the many fantasies I’ve had about Snow over the years). But I don’t fancy another broken nose, and I refuse to be the living trope of the gay roommate jumping on their straight (well, not so straight) roommate.

I wordlessly pass him a banana and withdraw to my side of the room, sitting on my bed and crossing my legs (I know I’m playing with fire, so I’m preempting the inevitable). I honestly don’t know the first thing about giving a blow job, but I’ve done my research over the many nights I’ve had alone while he’s on missions, and during holidays at home in Hampshire. (And that one time on the train to London after Snow came back sweaty and red-faced from rugby practice as I was leaving for the weekend.) 

But, I will succeed in pretending at being sexually active and confident at this even if it kills me.

“Peel it,” I say, crossing my arms. He does as he’s told. “Let’s see how far you can go without gagging, it’ll take some time to get used to it.”

If I thought Snow made a whole show of swallowing while he’s eating, this is a West End Production. He maintains eye contact with me the entire time and takes the whole length of the banana in one go. My mouth goes dry, I shouldn’t be surprised that he has no gag reflex (with the way he inhales his food), but here I am, surprised and incredibly hard.

“Now,” I clear my throat, trying to hold my voice steady, “pull out, slowly. Run your tongue along it as you do, pay attention to the tip.” 

Snow does it beautifully, his lips pursed and tight around the banana, the fruit is covered in his spit, and I could see vague tracks where he runs his tongue. Thank God I’ve crossed my legs because the things I’d be doing now would be obscene. 

“Now suck on the tip, varying the speed,” I say as clinically as possible. “You may think that sucking hard and fast is what feels good, but sometimes taking your time could be more effective.”

It’d be effective on me for sure. I have no idea what I’m telling him, except that it’s what I want done to me. What I want _him_ to do to me.

Snow, fortunately, closes his eyes, and he’s going at it as if he’s sucking someone’s cock. I take my eyes off his face for a moment to glance at his crotch. There’s a bulge there. 

With my luck, he’d be gifted _down there_ as well, and I’ll never see it.

“Shit!” 

I tear my eyes up from his crotch and see half of the banana hanging in his mouth, the other half still in his hand. His face is a dark scarlet, and his eyes are heavily lidded.

“I pity the man you’re going down on,” I sneer because complimenting him would mean I’m impressed and desperate for him to use me as a live model. Even if only for him to explore his sexuality—if he’s going to kill me at the end of this stupid war, I’ll take what I can get

“It’s not my fault bananas aren’t fucking hard and sturdy,” he says defensively. “If you’re so bloody good at it, you try.”

_I will not take the bait. I will not take the bait._

Feeling like the moment was utterly gone, I uncross my legs (thankfully my body wasn’t as traitorous as my heart) and I stand up. “I don’t put on a show for free Snow,” I smirk, cocking an eyebrow before leaving the room – taking my banana with me.

“And don’t go swallowing just anyone’s cum while I’m gone.”

I thought that’d be the end of it. A beautiful, but fleeting, moment of me watching Snow perform oral sex on a phallic fruit, but Snow isn’t anything if not predictably unpredictable. I’m enjoying some peaceful quiet and wrestling with Tolstoy, looking for inspiration for my Eighth Year Spell, when Snow comes barrelling in after rugby practice, two bananas in his hand.

“Snow.”

“Baz,” he says, tossing a banana to me. “I’ve been practicing and I think I’m getting better.”

I don’t get a word in before he drops his backpack, peels his banana, and start sucking. 

Watching him do it in our school uniform was one fantasy, but seeing him in his rugby kit is another one. His shirt’s tight, and it outlines his chest perfectly. The tiny shorts show off his strong thighs, and I know for a fact that they cup his stupid bubble butt as if it were on show. 

I internally curse; I just fed and all the blood in my system has gone straight to my face. The universe is punishing me for the crimes Snow thinks I did, but haven’t.

That’s when I notice, part of the banana has teeth marks on it, and I can’t resist, mainly because I _need_ to say something to break the tension. “It’s a cock Snow, not corn on the cob. Stop gnawing at it.”

He looks at me, and I see a flash of anger cross his face, then he marched over to me, hovering over my desk, holding up my banana. 

“Yeah? Let’s see you do it,” he says, then the prick starting licking his teeth, specifically, where my fangs would be. “Let’s see if your teeth sink into it.” 

Normally, I’d unleash my usual barrage of insults, but there’s some cheek to what Snow says. Maybe the boy had a concussion from being tackled one too many times. I roll my eyes and he dares to laugh. 

“Maybe I just suck dick better than you do and you’re pissed.”

_I’m not going to take the bait._

I take the bait. I glare up at him, and the banana, and peel back the yellow skin. Maintaining my glare, I don’t immediately go in and suck, instead I lick the banana, from base to the tip. I can see I’m getting to Snow, he’s swallowing heavily, and that’s my cue to take in the length of the banana. I can’t get in as much as Snow did—because I eat like a hamster—but I’m glad I don’t splutter.

It’s wet, it’s messy, but what keeps me going is Snow’s tiny shorts are starting to leave nothing to the imagination. Knowing I’m turning him on makes me more eager. I suck enthusiastically, hollowing out my cheeks, and twisting my head as I go down. Eventually, I slow and pull the banana out my mouth, with a little pop.

Snow’s breathing heavily now, and he leans in a bit closer. Just when I think he’s going to kiss me he says, “looks like you left teeth marks too, more than I did.” 

The bastard grins at me, his lopsided one that he usually reserves for getting a “C” on an exam or when he chases off whatever the Humdrum sends without going off. 

He thinks he did better than me. 

“You think you’re better at this?”

“Obviously, I am.”

“You are not.”

“Prove it.”

His hands are on his hips, one finger hooks into the elasticated waistband of his rugby shorts, revealing the tiniest sliver of his hip bone. I am a Pitch, but I am also a man, a starved man. And Snow is offering himself on a silver platter.

So I pull down his shorts, and his cock springs—already hard. The freckles and moles that cover Snow’s body are hidden by a healthy amount of darker blonde hair under his navel. The only reason I’m not reeling from the fact that I have Simon Snow’s cock out in front of me is that I have a job to do. 

I take his cock in my hand and start stroking it, my lips move in to start kissing his balls, tracing them with my tongue. I breathe in his scent, a mix of sweat and something smoky and distinctly Simon Snow. A moan escapes from Snow when I take one of his balls into my mouth and I can feel my cock struggling against my trousers. 

My hands move faster, and I run my lips up to his cock, tickling the tip with my tongue before taking him whole. Snow may not be as long as the banana, but he’s much thicker. I try to recall everything I’ve ever seen on the Internet, determined to give Snow the best blowjob of his life. I savour him, worship him, covering every inch of his cock with my spit. 

Snow puts his hands on the back of my head, pulling lightly on my hair, and starts rolling his hips. He’s guiding my head as I bob up and down on him. He’s thrusting into my mouth, and my hands find their way under his shirt. His skin is slightly tacky from practice ( _dried sweat_ ), but that just gives my hands more grip. I paw at his chest, pinching his nipples, which gives me an immediate reaction of a growl and him pushing his cock further into my mouth. 

I try my best to keep my lips tightly around him, but with how aggressive he’s fucking my face, I know I’m a slobbering mess. But I didn’t care, not when his hands are in my hair and his cock is hitting the back of my throat with the same intensity and raw power that he goes about everything with.

“Fuck, I’m going to cum, Baz,” he whines, and he takes his hands off my head. 

I don’t know what possesses me, but when Snow starts to pull back, I drop my hands and firmly placed them on his ass to push him back into my mouth. 

“ _Fuck_.”

His hands go back to my hair, grabbing it as his cock pulses in my mouth as he cums. I can feel the warmth of it as it goes down my throat, but I don’t stop. I keep going until I milk every last drop. 

Snow’s cock eventually calms down and he slowly pulls out, leaving behind a long bead of spit and semen running down my chin. He’s panting, his shorts down his thighs. 

I lick my lips and try to put on a face that says I just made my point and he was welcome.

“I thought you said not to swallow just anyone’s cum.”

And then he kisses me.

**SIMON**

Penny once said that the easiest way to get to Baz is to challenge him.

I pull back from him, grinning, the taste of my cum lingering in my mouth.

“I still think I’m better.”

“Prove it,” he says.

So I do.

He lasts a minute.


End file.
